


No One Will Ever Feel Like This Again

by mikaylamazing



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Awkwardness, Friends to Lovers, Kinda, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 08:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylamazing/pseuds/mikaylamazing
Summary: Pete and Patrick were friends. Now they're not. But they have to work on a school project together.





	No One Will Ever Feel Like This Again

**Author's Note:**

> completely self-indulgent peterick high school au bc I have no control and I didn't wanna work on my essay

Patrick’s hand is throbbing by the time he sits down in his English class “five minutes late, keep it up and you’ll be in detention before you know it”. As if he smashed his pinky in his locker door completely on purpose just to arrive late to class and get berated by a teacher he doesn’t even particularly like. He’s never been late in his life; can’t the universe cut him some fucking slack? He sighs and slumps back in his chair, resigning himself to the rest of the day.

            He tends to get in his own head, one bad thing leading to another, simply because he’s already convinced himself it’s gonna be a bad day. But he can’t be held responsible for what happens in English class. The teacher says it’s gonna be a partner project, and just as Patrick thinks about pairing up with the quiet kid in the corner, his dreams are dismantled.

            “I’ve already paired you up in advance. To avoid any trouble,” she says, giving a few students wary glances. Patrick feels stupid for it, but he crosses his fingers and whispers “please” repeatedly under his breath.

            Because he doesn’t have the best track record with luck, Patrick almost predicts being partnered up with Pete. When their names are called out he can hear Pete’s tiny huff of disbelief from across the room. Patrick just barely stops himself from saying something like “yeah, I’m not too pleased either.” He knows he would end up stuttering or his voice would break and he just wouldn’t sound as cool and uncaring as he wants to.

            There is a short period where all that can be heard is the sound of disappointed sighs and chairs being moved, and then Pete is sitting there, right in front of him. He gives a self-assured smirk, and before he even opens his mouth, Patrick regrets coming to school that day.

            “’Sup,” Pete says, after a few seconds of awkward silence. The monosyllabic greeting grates Patrick’s nerves and he has the sudden urge to storm out of the classroom. He won’t let Pete have the satisfaction.

            “So I was thinking we could analyze the poem in chapter six-”

            “Whoa, I don’t even get a ‘Hi, Pete, how have you been’?” The lilt in Pete’s voice makes it clear that he’s having a great time at Patrick’s expense. He’s not surprised at all.

            “Can you at least pretend to be civil for like, five minutes?” Patrick asks, and it’s meant to sound mean and patronizing, but mostly comes across like he’s pleading. Pete smirks again.

            “I just thought we should get to know each other before we start the project, you know? No need to jump right in, we have two weeks to work on this shit.”

            “I’d like to get it done as quickly as possible so excuse me for wanting to get a head start.” Patrick finally looks up from his assignment sheet, directly into Pete’s eyes. Not what he wanted.

            “Okay, look, I can see you’re upset. There’s like ten minutes left that we can spend completely ignoring each other, and we can meet up later this week to figure out the project,” Pete suggests. He’s already turning around like he knows Patrick is going to agree, which just makes him want to disagree out of spite.

            “Fine.”

            Patrick is just beginning to settle, thinks about taking out the book he’s almost done reading, when Pete asks “You still have my number, right?”

            Patrick clenches and unclenches his teeth before responding.

            “No, I don’t,” he lies, because he could never forget something like Pete’s phone number. He just wants to do whatever he can to get that smug look off his face.

            “Okay. Guess I’ll call you instead.” It’s the last thing Pete says before the bell rings and then he’s gone.

 

* * *

 

           

Patrick gets home and just wants to down a gallon of orange juice and pass out. His day continued on the path of exhausting, especially when he realized he forgot his lunch money at home and he had to survive the next three classes on four bottles of water and a packet of trail mix he found at the bottom of his backpack.

            He knows that that was his fault and nothing could have helped that but himself, but he still wants to blame Pete for everything.

            “Hi, honey. How was your day?” his mother asks, innocently enough. He loves his mom, but she tends to forget he’s a stereotypically angsty teenager who needs to keep some things to himself.

            “It was fine,” he lies. And it’s obvious, but his mom says nothing more on the subject.

            “You wanna help me start dinner?” He nods because despite the fact that he has way too much homework to do, he needs and appreciates a distraction.

            He’s stirring pasta when he hears the phone ring. His mom answers with a tone that conveys pleasant surprise, asks “how have you been?” and then she walks in and says “it’s for you,” with a smile. He puts the spoon down and then takes the phone from her.

            “What do you want?” he asks, and his mom’s face falls. He feels bad for a second but it’s Pete. He’s not sure what she expected.

            “Is that any way to treat your project partner?” Pete asks, probably knowing that Patrick is rolling his eyes at that very moment.

            “Seriously, what do you want? I’m kinda in the middle of something,” Patrick says, looking over his shoulder to see his mom tending to the pasta and trying not to look like she’s listening to everything he says.

            “Yeah, your mom said you were making dinner. Patrick Stump: man of many talents.” Patrick rolls his eyes again.

            “Whatever. If you’re calling about meeting up, I’m free pretty much every day except Wednesday-”

            “What’s on Wednesday?”

            “So just pick a day and I’ll try not to suffer too much.” There’s a beat of silence, and for a moment Patrick thinks he’s won this non-argument.

            “So what’s on Wednesday?”

            “None of your fucking business,” Patrick bites out. His mom looks at him disapprovingly and he turns red, but he’s standing his ground.

            “Gee, fine. I’m coming over tomorrow.” Before Patrick can get a word in edgewise there’s the sound of a click followed by the dial tone. He sighs and hangs up the phone and when he returns to the stove his mom is looking at him, more sad than anything. She’s quiet for a moment, but he can sense what’s coming and he’s right.

            “What ever happened to you and Pete?” Her voice is soft and careful, but he feels like he’s had this conversation a hundred times already.

            “I don’t know. We just grew apart. People do that sometimes.” He must sound as bitter and upset as he feels because she leaves it at that as they sit down at the table.

 

* * *

 

 

            The hand on Patrick’s shoulder is enough to make him jump, which is just upsetting when he realizes the hand is attached to Pete.

            “Mind if I catch a ride with you? Since we’re going to the same place and all,” Pete says with a stupid grin on his face.

            “What if I said no?” Patrick asks. And Pete must think he’s joking because he’s still smiling, and now he’s slinging his arm around Patrick’s shoulders.

            “I’d say that’s unlike you because you’re usually a very sweet boy.” They’re standing in front of Patrick’s bike and Pete seems confused as to why they have stopped. Patrick takes a key out of his backpack and only then does it finally occur to him.

            “Wait, I could’ve sworn you had a car,” Pete said, looking at Patrick who was now kneeling down to free his bike from the lock.

            “My mom’s car was giving her trouble this morning, so.” He stands up, and is ready to start riding down the sidewalk, forcing Pete to keep up with him, when he feels hands on his shoulders, and he doesn’t think he likes that.

            “Guess it’s a good thing your bike has pegs then, huh?” Pete asks, he mouth right up against Patrick’s ear, and it takes every part of his self-control to not tip the bike over.

            “Get the fuck off of my bike,” he seethes, but he’s already pedaling and he knows that he’s lost this fight before it’s begun. His house is only twenty minutes away, but it feels like years go by when he’s got Pete’s hands gripping tighter every time they go over the slightest bump or dip.

            “That fucking hurts, you know?” Patrick says, and Pete responds by letting go of his shoulders and just linking his arms in front of his chest.

            “Sorry,” Pete says softly, and for once, he sounds like he means it.

            “You know, you could’ve walked. Aren’t you on the soccer team, or whatever?” Pete laughs, his breath whispering against the side of Patrick’s neck, and _wow, this guy_ still _has no concept of personal space, whatsoever._ Pete jumps off the pegs five feet away from the driveway and Patrick struggles to keep his balance.

            “Thanks for the ride, pattycakes,” Pete says, winking exaggeratedly.

            “Don’t call me that.” Patrick sets his bike down and quickly heads inside. He’s hoping to completely miss his mother, but she’s sitting on the couch when they walk in. She tries too hard to look surprised when she’s probably been peeking out of the window for the past ten minutes.

            “Hi, Pete, how are you doing?” she asks. Her voice is giddy and she’s not even pretending to pay attention to Patrick at this point. Pete might as well be the only person on the planet.

            “I’m doing pretty well, Mrs. Stump. And yourself?” Every word rolls off his tongue with confidence, and Patrick is already done with this conversation.

            “I’m doing better. You know how things can be,” she responds, and it’s too vague, Patrick can sense a full-blown conversation beginning and he can’t have that.

            “Yeah, we really have to work on this project. It’s a third of our grade, you know,” Patrick announces nervously, grabbing Pete’s wrist and tugging him along.

            “It was nice seeing you again, Pete!”

            “Likewise!” Patrick just manages to shut the door behind them before anything more can be said. He lets out the breath he’s been holding.

            “Don’t talk to my mom so casually, I don’t like it,” Patrick says. He sits on his bed and begins rummaging through his backpack for the assignment sheet. The corners are slightly bent and it bothers him more than it would on an average day.

            “Aw, c’mon, your mom is cool and she loves me.” Pete makes himself at home, kicking his shoes off and hopping onto the bed right next to Patrick. He takes the sheet from Patrick.

            “My mom hasn’t seen you in five years. She doesn’t even know who you are anymore. Lots of things have obviously changed.” He snatches the paper back and starts looking over the guidelines. He can’t depend on Pete to do any of this right. If he wants a good grade he’s gonna need a solid understanding of the assignment.

            “Like what? I’m still Pete.” He finally decides to just look over Patrick’s shoulder to read along.

            “I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re some kind of fucking emo now,” Patrick says, flicking the long bangs that hang over Pete’s eyes.      

            “I resent that,” Pete, says, swatting Patrick’s hand away and fixing his hair, but he still has a smile on his face.

            “I resent you.” It’s comes out of Patrick’s mouth easily enough but he still winces a bit. Pete’s still unaffected, somehow managing to move even closer to Patrick on the bed.

            “C’mon, I’m still the same guy and you know it.” Pete ducks his head down, resting it on Patrick’s shoulder. He looks up and tries to make eye contact. Patrick’s adamant about not letting that happen. He shrugs Pete off and moves the inch he’s got to the right of him.

            “Can we just work on the project?” Pete seems to finally resign, asking what poem Patrick had in mind. They sort out which parts each of them will work on and they’re both reading and writing silently when his mom ruins everything.

            “Hi, boys,” she says, sounding way too happy and way too excited. They haven’t accomplished enough to be interrupted yet, and Patrick is clenching his fist around his pencil because Pete has already set his notebook down and is now giving his mother what Patrick assumes is supposed to be a ‘charming smile’.

            “What is it, mom?” Patrick asks, and he’s trying not to sound too annoyed, but it comes through anyway.

            “I was just gonna ask if Pete wanted to stay for dinner.” Patrick’s heart stops for a moment. He says “No, that’s fine,” at the same time Pete says “I’d love to.”

            They look at each other, and Patrick’s mom starts backing out of the room.

            “I’ll set another place at the table then,” she says, her smile a little more hesitant than before, stepping out and forgetting to close the door behind her.

            “Why? Why do things like this happen to me?” Patrick asks his hands. He stopped writing in the middle of a sentence and he can’t remember how he wanted it to end. He’s considering erasing it or just crumpling up the entire page.

            “And you say I’m an emo,” Pete says. He puts his notes down on the bed and stands up, taking Patrick’s hand and pulling him up with him.

            “It’ll be fun to catch up,” and now they’re walking down the hallway and into the dining room and their hands are still linked together. Patrick quickly snatches his back, making a show of his discomfort.

            “So, it’s been a while, Patricia,” Pete says. He does a little jog over to the table so that he has the chair right next her and everything he does is just making Patrick angrier.

            “It has. How are you, how have you been doing in school?”

            “Pretty well. Can’t believe it’s almost over.”

            “Well, I’m sure Patrick’s jealous, but what’s one more year, right?” They both look at him like he’s supposed to answer that in a way that doesn’t sound like he hates school and the educational system in America and his life. He stays silent and it’s awkward for a moment, before his mother is plowing on with more questions. Patrick blanks for a while, absentmindedly stabbing his food with his fork until he hears the word ‘girlfriend’.

            For the first time that day, Pete actually looks flustered and is scratching the back of his neck while Patrick looks between him and his mom.

            “You’re a handsome young man, Pete. There’s a girl, there has to be,” she asserts, teasing more than anything, but Patrick can see Pete’s face going red and oh, _ohhhh…_

            Patrick suddenly recalls all the times he’s seen Pete linking hands with guys, throwing his arms around their necks and whispering in their ears.

            “Yeah, Pete. A cool, popular guy like you _must_ have a girlfriend,” Patrick says, and it’s what finally makes Pete glare back at him.

            “Girls aren’t really my thing.” Patrick is surprised at how nonchalant Pete is about the whole thing, but his face is still burning, and Patrick is still feeling triumphant.

            “What do you mean, Pete?” Patrick asks, and he’s being a total asshole now, but he can’t say Pete doesn’t deserve it. His mom still looks lost which is equal parts hilarious and unfortunate.

            “I’m, uh, gay. So, no girlfriends. Had a couple of boyfriends that didn’t work out. Guessing it’ll be a while before I find the right guy for me,” Pete says. Patrick is surprised he only hesitated once and he tries to gauge his mother’s reaction.

            “Well, dating in high school is never easy. Don’t let it get you down.” She says it without missing a beat and Patrick briefly wonders if it would be a smart idea for him to come out too, just a casual, _“oh, same, I also like guys”_ or something to that effect, but before he can get his head on straight his mom is diving into a story.

            “I remember when Patrick was in kindergarten, you two were messing around in the backyard and you found the cutest little ring buried in the dirt.” Patrick’s entire body freezes. He wants to scream ‘shut up’ at the top of his lungs, but he could never tell his mom to shut up, so not moving at all is apparently the next best thing.

            “You picked it up and said, ‘Now me and Patrick can get married,’ talking about how you’d seen it in all the movies and knew _exactly_ what to do. Got down on one knee and everything, it was adorable.”

            “Mom,” Patrick starts, his voice on the cusp of sounding livid because why does she think this is okay? It’s not.

            “What? It was cute. Pete gave you a little kiss on the cheek-”

            “Mom.”

            “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind having Pete as a son-in-law-”

            “Mom!” She finally stops talking, but she’s smiling like she knows something, even when there’s nothing to know, _there’s nothing_. Patrick is aware he must look ridiculous, he can feel how hot his face is, and he knows his pale skin is doing nothing to help hide the fact that he’s never been more embarrassed in his life. He stands up quickly with a few words about ‘working on the project’ before he’s powerwalking back to his room.

            He throws himself face-first onto his bed, praying for the world to swallow him before Pete comes back, but it would appear that Pete was right on his heels because he walks in just moments later. There’s silence as Pete sits down on the bed next to Patrick’s legs. The silence is short-lived.

            “I can’t believe I’ve been cheating on you all this time,” Pete says. Patrick can hear his smirk and he doesn’t think he’s disliked Pete more than he does in this moment.

            “Oh my god, stop being so friendly. Just because my mom still loves you doesn’t mean anything is different,” Patrick yells into his pillow. He hopes it was intelligible because he’s not in the mood to repeat himself.

            “Dinner was nice. It was just like old times. I-”

            “Stop saying that! Stop talking about ‘old times’ like you’re nostalgic. That’s bullshit, _you_ forgot about _me_.” Patrick doesn’t mean to sound so upset, just annoyed, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt when Pete made new friends in middle school and eventually stopped hanging out with him all together. For a long time, Pete was his only friend and it sucked when he didn’t have that anymore.

            “I didn’t forget about you, Pattycakes.”

            “Don’t fucking call me that.”

            “Will you just let me talk?” Pete is pleading, and it’s the closest he’s gotten to raising his voice so Patrick stops and pays attention, though he’s extremely skeptical.

            “I didn’t _forget_ about you. I didn’t want to leave you or anything; you were my best friend. I just… couldn’t be around you anymore.” Patrick is about to ask how that’s supposed to make him feel better, but Pete must anticipate this because he keeps going.

            “Not like, your fault or anything. I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. It was my fault, I’m an idiot and honestly, I don’t know why you even wanted to be friends with someone like me.” Patrick’s face contorts in confusion.

            “I don’t understand,” he says, and Pete rolls his eyes and lets out an uneven breath.

            “You’re so smart and intuitive, Patrick. You’re really gonna make me spell this out for you?” The blush has returned to Pete’s face and Patrick’s mind is still racing but making no connections. He shrugs. Pete sighs.

            “I hope you don’t still want to be a detective-”

            “I’m actually looking into music, so-”

            “-because you’d be a pretty terrible one considering you couldn’t even notice my huge crush on you.” The room falls silent and Pete is staring at his shoes. Patrick nearly chokes on his own saliva.

            “You, um, what?” Patrick stammers, and now his face is going bright red again. There’s no way this is real. Patrick must be hallucinating, or Pete’s become a really good liar.

            “I had, I mean to some extent I still have, a crush on you. Like, I wanted to be with you all the time and kiss you and cuddle with you and-”

            “I _know_ what constitutes a crush.”

            “Okay, okay. You just seemed a little confused…” Pete’s voice trails off, and Patrick doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound this unsure before.

            “Why are you telling me this?” Patrick asks, he finally looks up, but Pete still isn’t looking at him. He hasn’t had a real conversation with Pete in almost five years; he doesn’t exactly trust Pete’s word at this time. He wouldn’t put it past Pete to confess a ‘crush’ as a prank. The whole soccer team is probably in on it.

            “Because I have nothing to lose.” They finally make eye contact at that, and even though he lets out a small laugh, Pete’s eyes are still shifting and his leg is bouncing up and down.

            “I mean, you said it yourself; we’re not friends. The worst thing that could come of this is you never speaking to me again, which, let’s be honest, we were already pretty close to. I didn’t tell you before because I was scared,” Pete says, and it’s the most sincere-sounding thing that’s come out of his mouth so far. That doesn’t make Patrick any less confused.

            “Why were you scared? Did you really think I’d stop being your friend over something like that, because that isn’t giving me like, any credit at all.”

            “I know, and I realize that now. I just wanted to protect myself. But, I know that I hurt you, and I understand if you can’t forgive me, but just know that you’ve always been the best friend I could ever ask for and I don’t-” Pete’s words are stopped by promptly by Patrick’s mouth: partly because Pete just admitted he had a crush on him and he’d dreamed of it for years, but mostly because he wanted him to shut up. Pete did always tend to talk too much.

            “Oh my god, just stop talking.” Patrick is kinda breathless, but so is Pete, and smiles are growing on both of their faces.

            “Okay, I can do that.”


End file.
